


Five by Five by Infinity

by snowpuppies



Series: Five by Five Verse [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-16
Updated: 2012-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-02 19:18:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowpuppies/pseuds/snowpuppies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faith's done this dance before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five by Five by Infinity

  


**Title** : Five by Five by Infinity  
 **Author** : [](http://snowpuppies.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**snowpuppies**](http://snowpuppies.dreamwidth.org/)  
 **Fandom** : BtVS  
 **Character/Pairing** : Faith/Buffy  
 **Genre** : Angst, Sex, Schmoop  
 **Rating** : NC-17  
 **Highlight for Warnings** : ** Faith's language, f/f sexiness**  
 **Disclaimer & Distribution**: Recognizable things aren't mine but the fic is. Please don't archive or distribute without asking.  
 **Summary** : Faith's done this dance before.  
 **Word Count** : 1,330  
 **x-posted to** : TBA

 **A/N** : for the [Bechdel Test Comment Ficathon 2.0](http://penny-lane-42.livejournal.com/244264.html), [prompt here](http://penny-lane-42.livejournal.com/244264.html?thread=5511464#t5511464).  
 **A/N2** : also for [](http://spiletta42.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**spiletta42**](http://spiletta42.dreamwidth.org/) 's ["I Feel Selfish" Ficathon](http://spiletta42.dreamwidth.org/1915.html), which hasn't officially started, yet, but I left a prompt there that I actually wanted to fill and it popped into my head, so...early!fic, FTW!!

[ ](http://penny-lane-42.livejournal.com/244264.html)

Beta'd by the extraordinary [](http://velvetwhip.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**velvetwhip**](http://velvetwhip.dreamwidth.org/). Mistakes Mine.

 

 

  
**Five by Five by Infinity**

 

 _...and then he went POOF._ Faith scrawls in the last blank—fucking Giles, Slaying paperwork? Gotta be kidding—adding a jaunty _The End_ before scribbling her signature on the last line. Eighteen-hundred Slayers, and she's got to be the one writing up the reports.

 _Fuck_. Responsibility sucks.

"Finished?" Buffy's voice pulls her from her thoughts and she turns. The other Slayer is standing in her bedroom doorway, slinky skirt in place, artfully tousled hair, and _smoking_ hot.

"Whoa, B. Hot Date?"

"Get dressed. You. Me. Dancing. Drinks. Girls' night."

"Uh..." Echoes of another night spent dancing and (illegally) drinking float through her mind. She remembers how that dance ended, and it's not something she wants to revisit. No, thank you.

"Come on." Buffy cocks her head, hand planted on her hip in what the mini-Slayers call her 'mom pose.'

"Buffy, I'm not sure..."

Buffy's smirking expression turns serious and Faith finds herself drawn into a standing position.

"Please?"

 _Fuck_.

"Pulling out the big guns with those eyes, B."

"Is it working?"

And now she's pouting.

_Damn it._

"Hold on, lemme change."

 

***

 

The club is pulsing with energy and music and she lets Buffy draw her straight onto the dance floor, teasing grin pulling her in more than Buffy's small, warm hands do. She watches as Buffy does a sexy shimmy and the skirt slips up another inch.

 _Not fair._ She closes her eyes—can't look, holy hell, she can't look—and lets her head fall back as the music swells and she begins to move with the thrumming bass. It's been a while since she's worn leather, but she can't help but sigh at the way the material grips her thighs. Can't say she isn't glad Buffy insisted, now.

She startles when arms wrap around her shoulders, blinking through the strobes to catch Buffy's eyes, pupils round and dark in the low light of the club.

"B? What're you—?" She cuts off when Buffy sways closer, hips rocking in _close_ , then swaying away with the music, fingers dancing along Faith's bare shoulders as she circles around, teasing glances pulling at something deep in Faith's gut.

"Wanna drink?"

_Huh?_

"Huh?"

"Drink?" Buffy repeats, miming tipping back a glass.

She resolutely does not watch Buffy's throat as she swallows.

"I'm not sure...?"

Buffy grins—"Be right back"—before twirling away through the crowd.

Faith blinks. She's lost the plot, but she's sure as hell willing to follow the white rabbit. _Damn near anywhere._

 

***

 

After her third shot of tequila, she gives up the over-thinking—not really her thing, anyhow—and starts rolling with the punches. Or with the little twists of B's hips, anyway.

They're close— _close_ —and the heat of Buffy's breath against her neck is driving her crazy, but then, Buffy's always gotten under her skin like no other, even after all the good and the bad and the blood and the angst, and right now, there's just warmth and lust and something deeper that she's never really examined, but fuck if she's gonna take an existential break when Buffy's whispering in her ear.

"Come on."

She follows—of course she follows—wrapped in the feel, the smell, the _spell_ of her sisterslayer, and yeah, B's leading her around by the pussy, but she's game.

She's definitely dreaming, but she's game.

Speaking of, she's pretty sure she's stained her last pair of leather pants by now. She thinks she might keep them forever.

Distracted by the way the wet leather is rubbing against her thighs, she doesn't notice they've exited the club until she's back against the wall, Buffy a writhing blanket of heat against her body. Small, neat teeth nibble on her lips and she opens her mouth to let B in, she's always wanted to let B in, but her own stupid mouth, her own stupid _self_ always got in the way.

And speaking of her stupid self, her stupid brain won't shut up and nothing's adding up and this is _not_ five by five, or even three by two, or whatever screwed-the-fuck-up is and...

"What the hell, B?"

Buffy sighs, resting her forearms on Faith's shoulders, fingers pushing a strand of Faith's hair behind her ear.

"Faith, do we really have to talk about this?"

"Talk? _This?_ This is— I'm about to cross the finish line and I'm not even sure where this race started."

"Faith." And just like that, the flirty, smoky, knowing look Buffy's worn all evening vanishes, and the echo of their past appears in Buffy's gaze.

Here it comes. The other shoe? Locked and loaded.

"I'm just so tired of wasting time." Eyelids fluttering shut, Buffy leans in and presses her lips—ever so gently—against Faith's mouth.

She sighs into the kiss and the other shoe disappears.

It tastes like forgiveness, like hope, and she knows she doesn't deserve this, can't have this, will definitely wake in the morning with sticky thighs and an empty, cold bed, but she can't say 'no,' can't even think it, because she doesn't know when she hasn't wanted this. She turns the tables, flipping them around and pressing Buffy against the brickwork, and for the first time in her life she really thinks a bed would be more preferable, but the pants are ruined anyway, so she slips to her knees in the grimy alley, shaking fingers pushing up, up on Buffy's skirt. She inhales, pressing her face against black satin panties, and Buffy doesn't smell like heaven or ambrosia, or any of that flowery shit they talk about in the movies. She smells like wet girl, moist and musky and she presses closer, mouthing at the damp fabric, her own grunt of satisfaction falling from her lips as Buffy whimpers overhead.

She allows herself one slow, long lick through the wetness, rolling the tangy slickness in her mouth before pulling herself to her feet, panting against Buffy's lips as she gently pulls the skirt back into place.

If this is her one chance, she's going to do it properly. And if by some miracle, this turns out to be real? For once, she's gonna do things right.

"Come on." She takes Buffy's hand, heart thudding in her chest as warm fingers wrap tightly around her own.

She leads the way and Buffy follows.

But this time, they're headed away from the dark.

 

***

 

She wakes from the best damn dream she's ever had, sticky and grimy and sore in places she hasn't been in a long time.

"Ungh."

She flinches when an arm flops across her chest, eyes popping open as Buffy crowds closer, sleepily burying her face in the crook of Faith's neck.

"B?"

"Mmm." Buffy wriggles, slipping a smooth leg between Faith's thighs and pulling her body more than half-over Faith's, pressing soft, warm kisses under Faith's ear, along her jaw, slipping up to take her lips in a hot, lazy kiss.

Dream's not over, then.

Then again, her dreams don't normally include morning breath.

"B?"

Buffy scowls. She definitely doesn't find it endearing.

"Kennedy's got morning duty, right?"

"Uh...yeah?"

Not a dream, then.

Her heart skips a beat—way to be cliché, Faith—as she studies the girl in her bed.

In. Her. Bed.

"Good." Buffy slips her lips against Faith's once more before slumping back into her nest in the tangle of Faith's hair. "Sleep. Sex. Breakfast."

_Oh hell, yeah._

She grins and prepares her counter-offer.

"Sex." She flips them over, biting playfully along the tendons in Buffy's neck. "Sleep." Buffy squirms under her, playful noises completely unlike the angry fighting grunts that usually accompany this position. "Sex." Buffy moans as she latches onto a bared nipple, giving a hard suck before circling her tongue around and flicking against the tip. "Breakfast."

She pulls back.

Buffy's awake, mussed and sleep-sexy, her eyes narrowed in calculation. Finally, she nods.

"Deal," Buffy offers, grinning.

And it's all for _her_.

When Buffy slams her hips upward, flipping Faith's back to the mattress, she laughs.

Five by _fucking_ Five.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _FIN_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

***

****[Fic Masterlists](http://snowpuppies.livejournal.com/215016.html)****

 

Originally archived [here](http://snowpuppies.dreamwidth.org/292819.html).


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